Lock the door
by gilboob
Summary: England comes home from work with a...surprise. But will he be able to use it without Matthew interrupting? FACE family fic, sorry if it's no good. Also for himewarrior926


Here is my attempt at a FrUK fic for my wonderful Himewarrior926, and I know it won't be as good as my other ones, (not like those were any good to begin with), but I'll try my best. This is a FACE family fic.

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><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>I own nothing

Arthur was excited. _Very _excited. He went through his whole day with a spring in his step, wondering just how the nights events would play out. He whistled a tune as he walked to his car, turning his back on his dreary job, and facing the vehicle that would take him to house and home. And his wonderful French lover, and two adorable children. The drive home was a quiet peaceful one, until he passed a shop. Smirking, and getting a very mischievous idea, he set the the car in the parking lot, got out and stepped into the small building. It must have been an hour since he went in, and when he returned, he had in his possession a large black shopping bag.

The contents crinkled and clinked together as he tossed it into the back seat. This time, he drove without stopping, save for the required stop lights and signs. He hurriedly reached behind him and took the bag, got out, slammed the car door shut, and bounded up the steps to his house two at a time. He was met by a tired Francis, holding a crying Matthew on one hip and a yelling and angry Alfred on the other. The toddlers had gotten into another petty fight. Alfred trying to steal Kumajirou, Matthew's stuffed polar bear, and Matthew defending his beloved toy. In the end, Francis resorted to putting the item on a high shelf, leaving the violet eyed child to cry in his loss, and the blue eyed one to yell and scream in his.

With a small sigh, England put down the bag on the side table and relieved his husband of Alfred, putting him in the high chair at the dining table. "You wanna tell me why you're so mad?" he asked, speaking to the side of Alfred's pouting head.

"Mattie wouldn't let me play with Kuma..." he muttered, folding his arms across his small chest.

"What about Tony? Don't you want to play with him?" Arthur was referring to the plastic alien toy that Alfred coveted. He had gotten it when he turned two, and dragged it around the house equally as often as Matthew did with his bear.

"I don't know where he is." Facepalming, Arthur stood up and left to face the sink, reaching into the soapy and clouded water. Tony emerged cleaner than when he went in, and Arthur berated himself for forgetting he was in there. After a quick drying, he handed the toy back to his son, watching the azure eyes light up with joy.

"Now, is there something you wanna say to Mattie?"

"I'm sorry for trying to take away Kumajirou, Matthew, and I promise I won't do it again!", came the memorized reply. It was a downright lie, of course. The brothers always got into this fight once or twice a week. Sometimes it wasn't over Kumajirou. It didn't matter, however. Arthur just hoped that the two would actually stick to their words someday and _not_ steal the others things.

"It's okay, I forgive you!" yelled Matthew from the other room. Soon he emerged, his tiny hand enclosed in his papa's. He was soon lifted up into the remaining high chair. While the two were occupied with their respected play things, the adults went over to the stove, standing side by side and ladling chicken noodle soup into four bowls.

"How was your day, mon amour?" Arthur chuckled and glanced at the bag.

"It was rather dull, to tell the truth..." Downright _lie_. The rest of dinner went by quietly, the children eating messily and only getting half of the food in their mouths before feeling full and sleepy. Arthur's plan was going perfectly. After a few days of careful observation, he concluded that few foods made the twins sleepier than chicken noodle soup, and he needed them to sleep for what he was about to do tonight.

He picked up the bowls and dumped the contents back into the pot, placing the bowls in the dishwasher. He carefully and quietly picked up Matthew, carrying him to his small, maple leaf patterned bed. He tucked him in and turned around, watching as Francis did the same to Alfred, the American flag sheets enveloping his tiny form. After closing the door quietly and completely, he dragged his husband into the bedroom and pinned him to the door.

"I was lying when I said the day was uneventful, and I was rather disappointed when you didn't pick up on that", Arthur mumbled against the warm flesh of France's throat.

"You seemed awfully happy when you came home, so don't think I don't know what is happening." Arthur pulled back, saddened by the fact that his lover knew what he was up to. He wanted it to be a surprise too. "You got a promotion didn't you?"

The Englishman sighed and dropped his shaking head. _He wished. _The job payed less than he wanted, and it was boring as hell. "Not exactly." He kissed his lover one last time before pushing him onto the bed. "Stay!", he ordered, and walked out, grabbing the bag and stepping into the bathroom to change. It took thirty minutes for him to emerge, and when he did, Francis' jaw _dropped_.

Arthur was dressed in a police outfit. The tight blue shorts showed off his rounded, toned ass nicely, from where France could see, and the top was unbuttoned just the right amount. The hat was atop his head at an angle, covering his green eyes. Silver handcuffs hung off the leather belt, along with an empty gun holster and a whip. Beating your husband with a nightstick wasn't very arousing or sexy, he thought. And a real gun? No, just...no.

While Francis sat there, dumbfounded, Arthur used this opportunity to handcuff him to the head board, jingling the chains loudly. He smiled at the surprised look on his husbands face. "What? You thought I just felt like dressing up?" he whispered, running a finger down the other blondes jaw lightly. He could feel the shuddering groan pass through the tip of the digit before he ran it across the plump lips. He swooped down and captured them for a split second before pulling back and getting out the whip.

Francis gave an audible groan at the sight; he was always one for role play in the bedroom, and this was his absolute favorite. "You disobeyed a police officer, now you get your punishment." Oh, yes, he liked this a lot. He was promptly flipped over onto his stomach, and his pants were yanked down to his calves, exposing his ass. The rough leather riding crop slid over the flesh, slipping in between his cheeks, pressing on his entrance.

"Nghh...mon cher, you aren't going to do that to me will you?" the blonde panted out, wondering if the crop would go inside him.

It did.

The rough cowhide jammed its way into France, scraping his walls. Francis let out a strangled moan of pain, becoming softer as the crop was thrust inside him, grazing his sweet spot. "Are you going to confess, or will I have to break you?" Arthur sneered, his rough side emerging after weeks of abstinence.

France had to play along, or else he would ruin the best, and only, sex he's had in 3 months. "Make me, _officer_", he spat out, trying to incense his husband. And it worked. The riding crop was pulled out and struck his ass, leaving a crimson mark in its wake.

"No mouthing off to a superior officer!" he growled, hitting him more. When France's ass was just the shade he liked, he pulled back and unzipped his pants. "Last chance to confess..." Arthur whispered in the other blondes ear. The wavy hair shook in refusal, and England pulled back, his hand weaving itself tightly in those yellow tresses. With his other hand, he pulled the rest of his pants and boxers down, his member aching and hard from the sadistic torture.

He plunges in mercilessly through the tight ring of muscle, jabbing in again and again. He ignores the screams of pain and pleasure, only seeking out his own ecstasy now. "You're getting what you deserve, punk" he said, his eyes closed as he rammed in and out. The now warm metal was biting into France's wrist as he jerked forward, his cock rubbing against the white sheets. He attempted to reach down and touch it, but was blocked by the handcuffs. They were soon discarded, though, and thrown onto the floor. He tried again, but now his arms were suddenly jerked and twisted behind him.

This continued for a good fifteen minutes, Arthur pounding inside his lover, and said lover trying touch his aching cock. The bed rocks on its legs, slamming against the wall and shaking the two on it. Not like they cared either way, they were concentrating too hard on the sex.

Just as Arthur feels on the verge of cumming, a small squeaking sound interrupts, and the patter of two little feet emerges from the dark hallway. _"Bloody fucking hell" _Arthur whispers, pulling the blanket of the foot of the bed and over himself and Francis. He quietly pulls out just as Matthew peeks over the edge of the bed, eyes brimming with tears.

"A-Al stole K-K-Kumajirou ag-again..." he whimpers, nose runny from all the crying. With a groan, more out of frustration than anything else, he shoos Mattie out. He only removes the rest of his costume and replaces it with sweatpants when the door is closed. He moves down to the room where Matthew has disappeared into, and sees Alfred holding Kuma. He quickly snatches it away and drops it onto Matthews bed.

He sits down with a sigh onto the plush bed, dropping his head into his hands and muttering. "Why'd you take Kumajirou again?"

"Tony got boring, and I felt like paying with Kuma"

"Why didn't you ask nicely?"

"I did, and Mattie said no!" Alfred says with a pout, glaring at his brother, who is currently hiding behind said stuffed toy, defending himself form the blue eyes.

"Haven't I told you that he's allowed to say no? And if he does, that you can't just take his things?" With a small nod, Al hugged his daddy around the waist.

"I'm sorry, and I won't do it again". Arthur rolled his eyes and stood up, saying goodnight and turning off the light switch. He almost ran back to the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him, and jumped onto an empty bed.

"W...what the fuck? Francis?" he called out, looking around the room. Call it what you will, but Francis attacked, jumping onto his lover and pulling down the sweatpants. He held the blonde down with one hand as he stroked himself to hardness, _again._ He hurriedly plunged into the tight entrance, slamming immediately after.

"You thought I would let you top me, mon amour? I don't think so." he whispered breathlessly, feeling Arthur shudder and groan under him. England didn't answer, settling on letting himself be taken. He wanted sex so badly, he didn't care if Francis was the one fucking or the one being fucked. Francis set up a steady pace, hitting his husbands prostate each time, and getting closer to the edge by the minute. He let out a string of french curses as he slammed his hips against his lovers, creating a loud slapping sound against the pale flesh.

The Englishman moaned loudly, tipping his head back and exposing his throat to the lust-filled Frenchman, who took a hungry bite as he slipped in and out. Arthur didn't even register the pain, his senses flooded with too much pleasure to feel it. The blood trickled down his neck and into the hollow in between his collarbones, some dripping onto the sheets. Francis let go of the wrists and gripped the hips instead, angling them so he could go deeper and hit the blondes sweet spot when he went in.

Each time he did, Arthur screamed, jerking forward underneath his lover and stroking his cock. France took over, doing it faster than Arthur and subsequently bringing him closer to the edge as he did so. Said blonde arched his back up into Francis' chest, rubbing their sensitive nipples together. He didn't think he could take it anymore, so he let go.

Arthur panted and groaned, scratching the sheets with his fingernails as he came. He bucked up a few more times to draw out his orgasm, and then slumped, feeling France's hot cum spill inside him. "Merde, Arthur...that was good." Arthur nods tiredly, pulling his husband onto the bed next to him and cuddling into his chest. "You should dress up as a police officer more often."

"Only if the kids don't interrupt" Arthur said with a yawn, and then promptly fell asleep. Francis chuckled, kissing the blonde hair and whispering, "Good night officer", before he drifted into dreamland too.


End file.
